


the only dream you seek

by gracequills



Series: this side of paradise [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Drabble, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hogwarts, Mirror of Erised, Short One Shot, dream is a slytherin pog, ravenclaw gogy!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28857228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracequills/pseuds/gracequills
Summary: While exploring Hogwarts castle, Dream and George stumble upon a strange mirror thatshouldbe magic, all things considered, but seems to be broken. After all, it reflects nothing but the two of them together.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: this side of paradise [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117559
Comments: 38
Kudos: 297





	the only dream you seek

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! i wanted to try my hand at writing a quick one shot just because (as many of you know) my recent wips have tended to go long long long, aka 7k words over, so have this. i wrote this during a schoolwork break between a lit essay and calculus homework lmao.
> 
> i was on the edge about tagging this as dnf because it's very clearly gen/pre-relationship but im a sucker for hits so. please don't hate me :DD
> 
> title from "this side of paradise" by coyote theory <33

Hogwarts is ominously dark at night. It’s not the type of darkness that George is used to in London—the usual haziness of night punctuated by the city lights gleaming in the blackness—but rather, an all-encompassing blanket that lies over the castle. It’s stifling. He can barely see past his own nose as he stumbles after Dream in the pitch-black hallways, clutching his dressing gown close to his chest with white fingers. 

Somehow, impossibly, the other boy knows how to navigate the pure blackness. George reaches out and grabs the sleeve of Dream’s pajamas as he darts through corridors, around suits of armor, past paintings that eye them sleepily. The touch of fabric against his hand keeps him steady. It seems that the entire school is sound asleep—there's barely a peep from the ghosts, even though they have to duck to avoid Peeves once or twice. Mrs. Norris never makes an appearance, and George feels his heart rate slow when Dream comes to a stop in front of another hallway that branches off into the dimness.

Clearly, they've reached their destination. George wouldn't know; all the corridors all look the same to him at night. He's left awestruck by the domineering presence of high ceilings and plush red carpet underneath their feet. They could be anywhere in the castle by now, and George would have no idea. 

But Dream furrows his brow, hisses, “I’ve never seen this corridor before.” 

George frowns, glancing around. “You sure?” he whispers, because he trusts Dream and his internal compass implicitly. 

“Positive,” Dream says with that innate steadiness. The expression of confusion on his face twists, lips turning up into a smug smirk. “Come on. Let’s explore.” 

George’s stomach does a flip at the prospect of getting in trouble _again_. “Dream, wait—” 

He's cut off when the other boy grabs his hand, grins, and pulls George after him down the new hallway. The Ravenclaw lets out a gasp, but obliges and hurries to keep up. 

They’ve taken to exploring the castle together every night as third-years. It started mostly on accident—George had nearly collided with Dream a few weeks ago when he’d been locked out of the Ravenclaw common room. The statue's riddle was far too frustrating and it had been past curfew, so George let out a string of curses when Dream bumped into him, glaring at the invisible space. Dream had removed the disillusionment charm, grinned at George with his signature cocky smile, and offered to take him along for the ride. 

So here they are. George is not exactly sure what their mission is tonight, but he knows that Dream wants to see the entire school; map it all in his mind so that he can navigate with ease of access. Two weeks later, they're still nowhere even _close_ to having traversed the entire school. 

“Hold on,” George says now, breaking away from Dream’s grip—he's sure he gets a bit bolder when he’s around his friend like this—and he adds, “Look, there’s a set of stairs down there.” 

He points to one of the doors lining the corridor, cracked open slightly to reveal a spiraling staircase that descends to who-knows-where; probably into the depths of the earth, George thinks dryly. He shouldn’t let this school surprise him anymore. 

Leaning on the door handle, Dream peeks down into the stairwell, grins, and says, “Feeling adventurous?” 

Heart in his throat, George nods, and he lets his friend pull him through the door and down, down, down the stairs. The heavy smell of wood polish saturates the air; when George lays a hand on the banister, it comes away damp. Clearly, this is not an abandoned part of the castle. 

“Slow down,” he complains as he stumbles after Dream. The Slytherin just shoots him a triumphant look—the green (though it looks yellow to George’s eyes) of Dream's pajamas highlights the blond of his hair, tousled in the dim moonlight that filters through a tiny window. He looks ethereal, untouchable. 

_And he’s_ my _friend,_ George thinks, fiercely protective of the other boy. Dream could have picked anyone to tag along on these midnight haunts—he's one of the most popular Quidditch players in Hogwarts’ grand social scheme—but he'd picked _George,_ and that's something to treasure. _Mine._

His heart flutters a little at that, and then he has to focus on his feet so that he doesn’t trip and drag Dream with him. After a few minutes, the stairs emerge in another long hallway that George looks on with a sigh. “Come on, then,” he says, taking the lead this time as he follows the dim, winding corridor to its destination. Adrenaline surges in his veins—if there’s something down here, it must be something important, right? Something to be hidden away from the students’ view? 

He surges forward when the door comes into view, grabbing the handle with vehemence, expecting—well, _something,_ alright, maybe gold or jewels or something enchanted, something dangerous—only to find: 

A mirror. 

Dream brushes past George, eyes bright with anticipation, but he similarly stops short when he catches sight of the mirror, gazing at the object with a furrowed brow. 

It’s not that the mirror isn’t _impressive,_ per se. Its edges are gilded with gold, carved so that they reflect the dim light of the torches that line the chamber’s walls. George is sure he can see jewels encrusted in the edges of the mirror, too, catching the light and refracting it across their faces. It’s a fairly large mirror, too, big enough to show his entire body standing and then some.

But he stares at the mirror and sees— _them_. Him and Dream, side by side, hands at their sides. 

“It’s a mirror,” Dream says, sounding distinctly put-out. 

“No shit, Dream,” George finds himself saying, shooting his friend an amused look. As he watches, their reflections smile at each other, soft and secret. 

“It isn’t even magic,” Dream complains, taking a step forward; his reflection doesn’t move, which makes George’s eyes widen. Maybe wizard mirrors are like pictures, he thinks—maybe reflections move differently than people. Maybe it’s like _Mary Poppins._ He wouldn’t know, being muggle-born and all. “All I see is you and me.” 

“Me too,” George says, frowning. He takes a step closer, eyes scanning over their reflections. Mirror-George smiles back at him, waving. 

Dream hums. “Where’d you get that prefect badge from?” 

The question jolts George from his stupor. “I’m sorry, what?” he says, alarmed, and he turns to see Dream squinting at their reflection. 

“The prefect badge,” he says slowly, pointing at mirror-George with a steady hand. He looks pensive, lost in thought. “On your robes.” 

Now that George knows where to look, his eyes immediately catch on said badge. Instinctively, he glances down at his own robes, which are devoid of any such medals. “That’s—I don’t _have_ a prefect badge. I’m only third-year, ‘s not possible—” He cuts himself off with a small gasp. “Dream, look, you have the captain’s badge!” 

Dream perks up immediately. “Wait, really?” He scans the mirror again, eyes widening when he spots it. The Slytherin Quidditch Captain’s badge is pinned neatly to mirror-Dream's robes, shining in the torchlight. George glances at his friend; Dream’s face is alight with admiration, wonder, and not a little bit of jealousy. 

Now that George is keyed into the missing badges, he’s able to catalog the remaining differences quickly: their reflections are wearing full school robes instead of pajamas. Mirror-Dream has a silver locket around his neck and a particularly nasty scar on his chin. George’s counterpart has several textbooks clutched underneath his arm and bags under his eyes to boot. The height difference is also far more pronounced; mirror-Dream is much taller than mirror-George. 

And the reflections have their hands clasped tightly together, fingers entwined as they grin back at George and Dream. 

“I think we’re older,” Dream says after a minute of silence. He studies the mirror in confusion. “You look like a fifth year, at least. How is that even possible?” 

George swallows thickly. “You mean this isn't, like—a wizard thing? Isn't it normal for mirrors to have sentience?” 

Dream looks at him like he’s grown a second head. “Mirrors don’t have _sentience_ , dumbass. That’s completely insane.” 

“Oh, and portraits do?” George challenges teasingly. On a whim, he reaches out and grabs Dream’s hand, still watching their reflection carefully. Dream tenses a little, but he relaxes into the touch after a moment when George doesn’t do anything more. “Maybe it’s supposed to do this.” 

“I think it’s broken,” Dream says loftily. His reflection frowns at him; he ignores it. “I think—” 

He’s cut off when George laughs suddenly, the sound bright. George plops himself down on the floor after he drops Dream’s hand, grinning up at his friend. “I think,” he says, embarrassingly happy for some unnamable reason, “this is a _great_ place to do that potions essay.” 

“What, with these two idiots watching us?” Dream gestures to the mirror in scorn. Their reflections look a little bit peeved at the insult; mirror-Dream rolls his eyes at his younger self. 

George rolls his eyes, still grinning up at his friend. “You know you’re just calling yourself an idiot if you say that.” 

“Oh, come on now, George,” Dream drawls in that way which makes George’s stomach do a series of cartwheels. He finally succumbs to the peer pressure and settles himself down on the stone floor beside George as the other boy draws a potions textbook out of his bag. “You’re seriously going to do homework? _On the floor?”_

“Where else would I do it?” George asks, genuinely confused as he scoots back so that his spine touches the wall. Dream just sighs, rolls his shoulders, and settles in beside him so that he’s leaning against George’s shoulder. 

“You’re such a Ravenclaw,” he murmurs, eyes already closing. That's another thing about Dream—he's like a cat. He'll settle in anywhere to sleep, curling his limbs around furniture and other people alike. Sapnap hates it. George secretly thinks it's endearing, but he'd rather endure a hundred bat bogey hexes than admit it to Dream's face.

“Oh, shut up,” George says, but the words have no bite. He scrambles to pull a quill from his bag, sets it to the parchment, and lets the scratch of ink calm him as he begins to write his essay. It's a long one, with two feet due next week—he's glad to get a head start on it now, in this strange in-between place. Dream's presence is calming at his side. 

“Nerd,” Dream gets out, words slurring right before he falls asleep on George’s shoulder. 

And they stay that way for the rest of the night, curled around each other in the chilly basement underneath their future selves’ protective gaze. Kept safe from the wind that whistles outside, the darkness that creeps in through nooks and crannies. 

All the while, guarded by the reminder of _what could be._

**Author's Note:**

> guys i havent read harry potter in ages i don't remember how the mirror of erised works guys please-


End file.
